


reaching in the dark

by blazeofglory



Series: names in history [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Historical, American Civil War, Angst, Established Relationship, Letters, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-25 10:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16195724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: Someday, someone is going to point to this dark spot in the wood and know that Leonard McCoy bled out here, slowly and terribly and completely alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The End of Love" by Florence + the Machine. 
> 
> Thanks, always, to Sina.

When Leonard closes his eyes, he knows this is the end.

He’s a doctor, damn it, he knows how to assess an injury, and he knows this is bad. The knife missed his heart, but just _barely_ , and there’s too much damage now for anyone to fix. Even if another doctor shows up right this second, there’s little more he can do than just try to staunch the bleeding and send up a prayer.

Leonard presses his hand to the wound, for what little good it can possibly do. It’s so much blood already, _too_ much blood, he doesn’t have long left now, and that thought steals his breath for a second. He’s going to die here, _today_.

The blood is pooling around him now, soaking into his white shirt and his nice carpet, probably soaking right down into the goddamn floorboards, staining this room forever. Someday, someone is going to point to this dark spot in the wood and know that Leonard McCoy bled out here, slowly and terribly and completely alone.

Leonard never thought it would end like this-- if anyone was to die young and bloody, he thought it’d be Jim. He’s been terrified every single day of the last two years that it _would_ be Jim, that Leonard wouldn’t even know unless Spock wrote him a letter and told him that the love of his life had been killed. Leonard never thought he’d die first.

It occurs to Leonard suddenly, horribly, that someone will have to write that letter to Jim now. He hopes Jocelyn will do it, but she hates Jim and she’s hardly been shy about it-- _fuck_ , she probably won’t even think to write him at all. Leonard can’t bear the thought of Jim not knowing, of Jim coming back to visit in a few months, of Jim turning up on this doorstep only to be told that Leonard’s been rotting in the ground without a lover to cry over his grave.

Leonard forces his eyes open, vision swimming, and reaches for the leg of the desk, fingers slick with blood, scrabbling uselessly at the wood. All he needs to do is pull himself up and he can write the damn letter himself, he can sign it in his own fucking blood, he can tell Jim one last time, _I love you_ and _I’m sorry_ and _goodbye_. Leonard falls back to the ground heavily, winded just from the attempt and eyes falling shut once again.

He tries to breathe, in and out, with only limited success.

If Jocelyn _does_ write to Jim, will he travel South for the funeral? Leonard hopes not, despite his selfish desire to have Jim close at all times, circumstances be damned. It’s not safe for Jim to be here-- it’s not safe for Jim to be any farther South than fucking _Maryland_ ; Leonard would give anything for Jim to just stay up North and stay fucking safe. If he were just a little stronger, if he could write that letter, he’d tell Jim not to come. All he can do now is hope that Jim will see sense and stay far away-- he only had one ally in the South, and Leonard will be dead before dawn breaks.

Jim will cry when he hears the news, Leonard is sure of it, and the thought of those blue eyes filled with tears fills him with guilt. All he’s ever wanted is for Jim to be happy, and he’s going to destroy that. Perhaps this has always been destined to happen, perhaps he’s always been doomed to an ephemeral life and a tragic death. Maybe Jim would’ve been better off if Leonard had never gathered his courage and kissed the smirk off his pretty face.

Still, Leonard can’t bring himself to regret that kiss or any of the others that followed. Almost a decade of stolen kisses, so many years of frequent visits and well-kept secrets and love letters too incriminating to keep. Leonard wishes he’d kept at least one letter, just so he could reread it now, to touch the same page that Jim once touched, to trace the careful outline of _Bones_ in Jim’s messy penmanship. It’s all just a memory now, and a decade sounds long, but nine years felt like hardly anything at all. Only nine years with the love of his life-- the fates have not been kind to them.

Leonard can’t bring himself to cry over his own death, but he cries for Jim. Only _days_ ago, Jim had been here, in this very office, perched on the edge of Leonard’s desk, mischievous and smiling and beautiful. They’d been so happy to see each other, so relieved after many long months of loneliness, all they did was kiss and smile for those two blissful days that ended much too soon. Jim had been radiant, made even more beautiful with the love that shone through him, and Leonard had been loathe to let him leave at all.

 _God_ , if Jim hadn’t left, this never would’ve happened. Jim would’ve protected him.

Nine years spent trying to protect each other, and Leonard’s death is going to break Jim. Since Pike’s death only a few months ago, Leonard’s been all that Jim has. He remembers with startling clarity the exact words Jim wrote to him when he told of Pike’s passing-- _You’re my only family left now, Bones. I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you, baby, and I never intend to find out. Once we win this war, let’s finally run away from it all._

Somewhere, in another world, another universe, another life, Jim and Leonard ran away to the Caribbean and were together and were _happy_. In another universe, they died as old men, in their sleep, in each other’s arms.

Leonard would do just about anything to be in Jim’s arms right about now.

Time is running out and Leonard knows it. His blood is spreading, hot and thick, but Leonard feels cold. He can’t feel his toes anymore and his breathing is shallow and this is it, this is the end.

 _“I don’t want to go,”_ Jim had said, the last time Leonard saw him. And Leonard had smiled a sad smile and he would’ve kissed Jim if they hadn’t been standing at the train station.

 _“You have to, the train will leave without you,”_ Leonard said, and he didn’t _know_ , he didn’t fucking know it was the end, he didn’t know that he should’ve done everything in his power to make Jim stay. 

Jim sighed, tired and bone weary, and Leonard had ached to kiss away his frown. 

_“I wish…”_

Leonard nodded, and said, _“I know.”_

People had been staring at them, eyeing Jim’s uniform with open hostility, and Leonard knew that he should keep his distance, maintain respectability, but he hadn’t been able to resist the urge to wrap his arms around Jim once more and hold him tight.

 _“I love you,”_ Leonard whispered in Jim’s ear, barely loud enough to be audible. _“You come back to me, okay, Jimmy?”_

Jim’s held him tight, almost too tight, before letting go all at once, smiling a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Jim whispered in a voice that broke, _“I’ll be back before you know it.”_

Then Jim left.

Leonard thinks, in his last few coherent thoughts, that Jim would’ve said he loved him too if he’d known it was his last chance.

Everything is slipping away-- the office, the blood, even Leonard’s awareness of what’s happening. He breathes his last breaths and he thinks of Jim, and the thoughts warm him even as his fingers go numb.

He remembers the touch of Jim’s lips against his own, he remembers that first kiss and every subsequent kiss, he remembers every time they almost got caught at West Point but _didn’t_ , he remembers how Jim would kiss him harder after every close call. He remembers Jim warm against his side in front of the fire, he remembers holding hands the first time they made love, he remembers every single smile that Jim’s ever sent his way.

He remembers sitting with Jim by the lake, just them and the water and the stars, and he remembers Jim pointing out the constellations. He remembers the gold of Jim’s hair and the blue of his eyes and the pink of his lips, and Leonard doesn’t feel the pain anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Bones_ ,

 

I hope I’m not bombarding you with too many letters, I know you’re busy and you don’t always have the time to respond. But writing to you makes me feel sane, so I’m going to keep doing it whenever I have the free time. Just write me back when you can, alright? I miss your voice, but I’d still love to at least read your words. I know there’s not much news to share, but you can just tell me about the hospital and the peach trees and how much you miss me, and that’ll do, baby. Tell me anything and I’ll read it over and over ‘til I’ve memorized every damn word.

Every night, I reread your letters by the fire light. Some of the guys have noticed, and Spock asks about you sometimes, in that weirdly formal way of his. I guess that means he gives a shit about me. It’s kinda nice, knowing there’s still someone here who has my back, even now that Pike’s gone. Spock knows we’re close, but I think maybe he actually… knows. About us, about the truth of it all. I’ll never dare to ask him, but something in his eyes tells me he knows and he doesn’t mind. I hope that’s true. 

I suppose I should be writing a letter to my wife now instead of to you. I just… I have nothing to say to her. I don’t even know her-- we’ve been married for going on two years now, but I’ve hardly spent even a handful of days with her. She writes me sometimes, but I never know what to say in response. Am I cruel to not respond? My mother is certain that I could grow to love her if I tried, but Bones, you and I both know that’s not true. There’s only one person in this world for me and that’s you. There’s no point in me even trying, not when my heart and soul are already devoted to you and you alone. 

I’d have married you instead if I could have. I know that’s a stupid, dangerous thing to say, but it’s true. You know it’s true, I bet you’ve even thought it before, you old romantic. Have I ever told you how jealous I am of Jocelyn? I’m sure it goes without saying, really, but let the record show that I am envious of that woman. She has you but she doesn’t even want you. I want you, but I can’t have you. How is that fair? The conventions of life have us trapped, but I long to be free. Someday, someday, right? Someday, you and I will be together and we’ll be happy. I’m not sure I even know how to be happy when I’m not by your side.

Though my last visit was brief, I’m glad I managed to sneak away long enough to see you at all. It’s been almost a month now, I realize, but I’ve replayed each kiss in my head, I remember them as well as if they were this morning. I hope I can see you again soon, before the war drags me too far from your arms.

God, I need to think about something other than your arms, or I’ll get… carried away.

I miss you. God, I miss every inch of you. I miss your smile and your voice and your bedhead on the pillow next to mine. This is the reckless sort of letter that makes you nervous, I know that, but we have yet to get caught, so try not to worry. I can’t stop myself from telling you that I love you, I just can’t. I know you’ll burn this once you’ve read it and that’s alright, just know that my love for you will outlast the lifespan of this letter.

My love for you will burn until the sun goes out.

I hope things are well, Bones. Please write soon.  

 

_Yours,_

_JTK_

 

P.S. I love you.

 

* * *

 

_Kirk—_

 

I realize now that it falls on me to write you this letter. You may be many things, but you are not a stupid man, and you must know what it means that I am writing to you at all. Five weeks ago, you came to visit my husband, and it is at your feet where I lay the blame for what has happened. Your presence did not go unnoticed by our neighbor and he did not take kindly to a Union soldier on his street. By the time he got into the house, you were long gone, but Leonard was still here.

He was buried next to his father in the backyard, under the cypress tree.

I have little else to say to you. I’ve known of this affair for years now and I tolerated your continued presence in my home for his sake. Believe what you will, but I wanted Leonard to be happy. I should have turned you away long ago, I was a fool to ever let you darken this doorstep. If I had refused to ever let you in, Leonard would still be alive. 

Do not send another letter to this house. Do not come back to pay your respects. In fact, if you respect this family at all, never return to Georgia.

If you dare show your face in this town again, I will personally ensure that your fate is the same as my husband’s.

 

_Jocelyn McCoy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm a very mean person!! Rest assured, though, there will be more to come in this series! I promise to write y'all some happy scenes from before the war started.


End file.
